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A Touch on the Sole of Your Foot
I drove home from a long day of work. It’s a very crappy job, but it pays the rent. My work hours are often insane; I usually work around twelve to fourteen hours. I live in one of those two-story apartments that would easily be confused for some motel on the highway or near a theme park. I parked my car right in the parking lot right next to the entrance to my room. Somehow, I was more tired than usual, and I could have cared less about my environment. I just wanted to drop my suitcase on the floor and fall upon my bed. I reached into my left pocket and fished for my keys. I keep a lot of trash and wrappers in my pockets, as my workplace didn’t bother to hire a janitor to take out the mountain of trash, and it didn’t seem right for me to litter, even when there wasn’t anybody around. I pulled out my keys and unlocked the door to my room. From there, I just closed the door behind me, dropped my suitcase on the floor and began to strip into my boxer briefs. I was ready to hit the hay and say okay to the next day. I stumbled around in my own apartment, thinking about my plans for work the next day, but I stopped when I saw the all-important-all-comforting glory that was my bed. It’s a single-sized bed: it had a wooden frame, the mattress was composed of Egyptian cotton and springs. It was not one of those fancy-schmancy memory foam beds that are all the rage, but it was serviceable. I jumped into the bed, embracing the soft cushioning exterior. The fluffy pillow felt like a cloud on my face. The lights in all of the rooms of my apartment were turned off, and I had my blanket over my face to block out all of the lights outside my window. I slowly began to slip into the realms of rapid-eye-movement sleep, but something stopped me. A light touch on the sole of my left foot. It felt like that of a small breeze, a smooth puff of air. I didn’t care to check; it was late at night and I just figured that it might be some kind of draft from a window that I forgot to close. Once again, I slowly approached the stage of REM sleep. Suddenly the small breeze, the puff of air, on the sole of my left foot turned into a light tap. I wiggled my left foot and slipped it into the blanket cover. Maybe it was just some random nervous system error. Whatever it is, I would deal with it in the morning. The blankets got too warm for my feet, so I stuck them out. I hate having warm feet. It doesn’t feel quite as comfortable to me as if they were cold or room temperature. I felt uncomfortable in my current sleeping position, so I turned to my right side. As soon as I got comfortable with my current position, the light tap that I felt on the sole of my left foot turned into a quick yet powerless slap. I figured that it was a figment of my imagination, as I haven’t been able to get any sleep, so I ignored it. As the night went on, the wind howled outside my window. With the blanket over my face, I couldn’t tell how crazy the weather was, neither did I care. I just wanted to get some sleep, and if I opened my eyes to take a look, I would risk not being able to go back to sleep again. I slowly started to reach the stage of REM sleep again, but this time, instead of the quick, powerless slap to the sole of my left foot, it turned into a quick slap. From that point, I was awake. Was there someone in the room? What did it want from me? I just wanted some sleep. My eyes were wide open, the blanket was still over my face. I was afraid that I would see who or what was slapping the sole of my left foot and that they would see me. I slipped my feet back under the blankets and tighten my grips around my blanket. I tried not to panic, as that would give away the fact that I was awake. After awhile, the wind outside my window died out. It was pure silence. I thought that whatever slapped my foot would have left by now, so I slipped my feet out of the blanket again. As soon as I stuck them out, the wind outside my window erupted in a louder manner, as if the sounds of a muted television where suddenly unmuted. The quick slap on the sole of my left foot turned into bludgeoning smash. I definitely felt the touch of the smash as well as the swelling pain. The touch I felt on the sole of my left foot, wasn’t the feel of human skin nor the surface of a metal instrument. It was the air itself. I laid in my bed, paralyzed in fear. I still didn’t want to pull the blanket away from my face, and I didn’t make a sound. I just wanted some sleep, but after the increase in severity of touch on my left foot, I knew what was coming next, and I dreaded it. The wind howled even louder, the trees outside my window rustled and swayed, with a loud creaky sound, as if the trees were uprooting from the ground and starting to walk among us. I clenched my jaws together as hard as I could. I gripped the blankets tightly and tried to keep in front my face, in hopes of lessening the pain that I would be experiencing. It was quick; a powerful bludgeoning motion of the air landed not on the sole of my left foot, but on the ankle. Clack. My left foot was torn from its socket. I rolled out of my bed and yelled in pain. The wind outside my window instantly died; the creaking sound of the trees disappeared. My eyes were wide open and staring at my left foot. It was completely dislocated; bits of bones were sticking out of the ankle, and blood streamed out of the torn flesh. Since the act of ignoring was up, I looked at the foot of my bed to see the torturer who had done this to me. Nothing was there. The only sound I heard was the calm breeze outside my window. Category:Beings Category:Dismemberment Category:Dreams/Sleep